keep running
by Nachhall
Summary: Yagen Toushirou is born on his feet running ever forwards, and only forwards, for running away is cowardice and Yagen Toushirou is no coward.


He breathes his first in a battlefield, running beside a master he finds himself already fond of. He's born as a weapon with the knowledge of how to kill, blood-spattered with a storm building up inside of his chest. And he laughs, giddy and happy and just with a touch of insanity as his master wields him with incredible vivacity, striking down enemies left and right.

Aniki , Tsurumaru calls him as a joke after witnessing him fussing over one of his master's favored general's child. 'Niki, the child repeats, staring up at him with happy eyes and after that, it's more common to find himself being called such around the palace, and these days it's far rarer that people call him by his given name.

He lets it go, leaves their voices and their noise and their stupidity behind, because he is a blade for killing, for war and death and fighting. He has callouses and cuts on his hands and fingers after so long handling his own blade, and blisters on his feet because he just keeps on running, running to - and not away never away for doing such is cowardice and he is no coward - battlefields and enemy lines, and he can't bring himself to stop, stop running and rest.

Yagen Toushirou is no big brother, he tells himself. Blood-stained and knowing only war and death, he is unsuited to be called such as far as he knows. He forges past enemy lines and wades through the mud, perseveres through sheer determination and lifts himself on tired legs and keeps on running because he can't bring himself to stop and he sees more loss than he feels his own brothers will ever see in their entire lifetimes.

He witnesses the treason of Akechi Mitsuhide, his master's act of seppuku and his barked orders for a servant to set the temple aflame. Hasebe and Souza safely make it out with the rest of the occupants as the fire rises, crackling and bright, and Honnouji falls, leaving Yagen alone with his master in a burning room.

He wants to run far far away.

He wants to cry and scream.

But he stays and draws his last breath in that burning room and that makes all the difference in his mind because only a coward runs away and Yagen Toushirou is no coward.

He takes his very first breath in a tangible body, and isn't that interesting when he knows - remembers - taking his last breath and burning to death alongside his favoured master in Honnouji?

The one who had summoned him was little more than a child, small hands and feet and fragile body, but determined - so so determined - and seeing such spirit in a human no more than 15 years old makes something rise in his chest; he finds himself, planting his feet into the ground and kneeling, swearing his loyalty like the first day he was summoned oh so long ago and bares the back of his neck to startled grey eyes in a gesture of submission.

He looks up and the boy smiles, lips curving into something perfect and warm with something wild and willful hidden just underneath, and the human should have looked small, his overly large robes drowning him in a sea of red-grey and white fabric, but he doesn't and Yagen doesn't know why he had even thought such in the first place.

"Yagen," His new master breathes, as if they had known each other from the very moment of Yagen's forging and not just new acquaintances meeting for the very first time.

But Yagen has been alone for so so very long, been disregarded by most of his comrades even back then, had lost not just comrades and masters to time and fire, but his very own life, and the littlest amount of regard that is being shown to him is nearly more than enough to make him break down sobbing and it takes most of his willpower not to do so right then and there.

Something rises up from behind his new master, tall and imposing, making Yagen wrench back with a strangled cry, heart leaping up into his throat. A tall shape of long and jagged lines, with hair as dark as his own and eyes gleaming as bright as the flames that had consumed him.

"Yagen," his master says again, but Yagen is caught and can't find it in himself to wrench his eyes away.

Run, run far far away, something within him whispers, the part of him that smiles when people and swords had called 'Aniki', the one that wants to just curl up and sob his fears and regrets away. Run, and it's tempting, so very tempting but Yagen holds his ground because no matter what lifetime or circumstances he finds himself in, he holds tight to his opinions of running away just because he feels scared and no matter what, Yagen Toushirou is no coward.

And so he plants his feet into the ground and squares his shoulders, dismissing his fear and not allowing his resolve to waver.

The figure watches him with those burning orange eyes for another long moment, before being the first one to look away, huffing in surprise and approval, turning his gaze towards their master in search of orders.

Yagen only allows himself to relax when that burning gaze is gone, letting his hand that was wrapped around the hilt of his tantou unclench and fall away to rest at his side once more.

A hand wraps around his wrist, oh so gentle but very firm, and searching grey eyes look into his own.

"Sometimes running away is not a bad thing, do you know why that is?" his master breathes, low and whisper-soft, as if he was telling Yagen a secret.

Yagen looks at his reflection in those foggy eyes and doesn't have to think very hard to know that he has no clue as to why that is.

"No," he whispers, as if what he was saying was a secret as well, shared only between the two of them.

His master slides his hand from Yagen's wrist to his palm, and loosely grasps his fingers, a small hint of not-pity-but-something-else in his gaze, and says, "Someday, I have strong feeling that you will find out exactly why."

In his first life Yagen is born running, with the wind in his hair and the blood of his master's enemies staining his clothing and face, and nothing about that will ever change.

The honmaru where he now dwells with his master and the one uchigatana feels different from the palaces of Oda Nobunaga and the battlefields where he had made most of his memories. He feels foreign here, set apart by more than just his height and un-refined ways. There is no scent of blood, no whispers of treason or the battle cries of warriors, and the silence leaves him restless and itchy. His room contains only him and a wardrobe of clothing, but he finds himself sneaking out silently anyways, stepping out silently onto the engawa in only his sleeping yukata and bare feet, and runs.

The very first time he had done so, he found himself stopping just before tall, tall walls with large hands gripping his shoulders and the figure -whom he still doesn't know the name of- leading him away and back to his room.

The second time, the figure is waiting outside his room, and Yagen ignores him, brushes him off before letting his feet touch the dry earth and running, giving no mind to the figure attempting to keep up with him. He runs and runs until his feet are hurting, his lungs and his calves and thighs burn, and even then he still doesn't stop.

The night air is cool and brisk, and dries his sweat as he closes his eyes and feels the wind rushing past his face. But he feels better now, not as restless nor as itchy, and he's completely forgotten his wariness of the figure who had caught up and is now shifting uncertainly beside him.

He looks at the figure, eyes still glowing as bright as the embers that would soon spark into a flame and stops.

He turns to the figure, and meets those burning eyes, and doesn't hesitate to reach out a hand in a gesture that couldn't be mistaken. "My name is Yagen Toushirou, once a favoured tantou of Oda Nobunaga, and you?"

There's a long silence, and Yagen could see the surprise in how the figure shifts uncomfortably in place, restlessness in the fingers combing back long strands of ebony black hair. The figure huffs, offering up his name like a banner of surrender or maybe just relief. "Mutsunokami Yoshiyuki is mine. If you're gonna ask for any titles or summin', I don' got any."

Yagen frowns, displeasure racing past his features before he wipes it away and offers with a smile, "Then I guess I'll help you find something someday," he says decisively and quickly changes the subject. "But first, tell me of our master and our circumstances. I need all the information I can get to be useful to our cause."

Mutsunokami blinks in surprise, head tilting in an endearing gesture that reminds Yagen somewhat of those puppies and dogs he had seen around in towns. The man -for his physical body defines him as such no matter how much younger he really is- laughs, a happy resounding laugh, and Yagen finds himself smiling along.

Maybe he just might be able to find friends here after all.

Yagen Toushirou was made for war and death, to kill and not to nurture, so he finds himself asking why he goes out of his way to look after all the Awataguchi blades as their older brother.

Aniki, the Awataguchi blades call him, maybe because of the fact he was at the citadel longer than any of them, or maybe because they feel as if he acts as an older brother towards them, and Yagen can't help but feel some hatred towards the endearment. There is no reason for them to call him such, not when Nakigitsune or Honebami or Namazuo are enough to look after the entire Awataguchi clan by themselves, and there will be even less reason for them to call him such when he succeeds in retrieving Ichigo's blade from the enemy.

He is not good enough to be a role model, he feels, with his unrefined mannerisms and mindset, so different from most of his brothers who have mostly only been kept in households as symbols of protection. He is -was- a tantou of Oda Nobunaga, his personality forged through countless battles and war councils, little habits picked up from Nobunaga's favoured generals or from Nobunaga himself.

Midare tries to teach him how to make flower crowns. His attempts only end in damaged flowers, and he laughs bitterly before excusing himself.

Akita and Gokotai show him how to make a proper shrine offering before going out on sorties and all he does is mess up every single attempt no matter how simple it is.

Learn how to heal, they tell him, you must have been named Yagen for a reason.

I was named Yagen after I sliced through a stone mortar after my master attempted seppuku, he answers, that name does not really mean anything more.

He isn't very helpful in most things outside of battle, at least not in the way the others want him to be. But he tries anyway and figures that the rest of the honmaru probably appreciate the thought. He knows that he is a warrior first and foremost and doesn't let his failed attempts bother him as he runs through blood soaked earth, shoes flying over mud and broken swords, with his teammates and Mutsunokami at his side, and a laugh bubbling from his lips, hair dripping and flicking blood as he wields his blade with a vivacity almost matching that of his old master's from so long ago.

Tantou -omamorigatana- like him were once meant to only be used as symbols of protection, to be kept in the house and never see battle and never have blood running down their blades. Yagen's blade is bloodstained and tinted a light red nowadays, and wiping off the blood is only an afterthought.

It's weird, his siblings say, and Yagen just laughs at their words. He's prideful and wild and free, and why should he have to listen to other's opinions of how he should be?

Akita and Gokotai shy away from him when he returns from sorties covered and dripping in blood. Hakata flinches away and the rest save for Atsushi and Midare avoid looking at him as he steps through their shared rooms towards the shower. He doesn't mind their reactions but makes sure to bring back little trinkets he had found in order to ease their wariness nevertheless, and he wonders why he feels the need to keep them from hating him so.

Yagen was born for battle, with a battle cry welling in his chest and standing on both feet, sprinting through enemy lines with blood dripping down his face and he feels more alive in battle than anywhere else in the world.

The first time he goes on a sortie he is underestimated, and he takes his anger out on the enemy, determined to prove that he was a weapon that was made to protect through any means necessary and not the other way around. He dodges, stabs, and laughs the same way he has always done and consequently, earns the respect of his teammates.

The six of them go on sortie after sortie,gaining experience and retrieving swords as they go, and Yagen keeps fighting and laughing and running just as he'd always done. The citadel swells with laughter and voices and Yagen finds himself looking after all of his brothers as their "eldest", no matter how much older Nakigitsune, Honebami, and Namazuo look. He meets faces both new and old, and patches up his relationship with past acquaintances and establishes even more with new ones.

His responsibilities hold him down and keep him from running unreservedly, and he simply squashes down the frustration and the sadness for he has siblings and comrades to take care of, and his wants come after their needs. Sorties become harder, and his wants are pushed even further back, rumors of strong tachi and Ichigo fueling him to push harder and kill faster instead of run farther. He spends more time than not on the battlefields, and relishes the feeling of being alive, with the sharp scent of copper filling his lungs and the dried blood crusting in his hair and on his uniform and his face.

It is there that Yagen finally considers learning at least some sort of first aid. Whilst in the middle of a battle, with his teammates surrounding him as he tries to stitch his stomach back together in order to keep his innards in rather than out. His hands shake and his aim suffers; the stitches look crooked and disgusting. But, disgusting or not, it is enough and he simply buttons his coat back up and returns to fighting as if nothing had happened.

It happens more than once, but Yagen waves off his teammates' concerns and firmly suggests that they keep going forward because Yagen's pride doesn't allow him to turn around because running away is cowardice and above all else, Yagen is no coward.

Their efforts to retrieve an Imperial tachi are in vain, and Yagen stares up at the burning sky hours later and prays for better luck the next time.

He was born in a battlefield with his feet running ever forwards over dirt ground, showing everyone who cared enough to look that he'll never turn around or back down, and it is this thought that runs through his head as a yari blade smashes past his defenses leaving him with no time to dodge and stabs straight through his stomach, through his spinal column, and out the other side.

A flash of red from the corner of his eye informs him that Mutsunokami had come and there is a brief thought that maybe he should have ordered a retreat several enemy waves ago, but it is interrupted as he feels himself topple over onto the ground.

His vision turns hazy, and Yagen lifts up a hand and wonders why it is covered in blood. There are screams ringing in his ears, and he opens his eyes to look at the dusky sky above him. His chest feels empty for some reason he can't name, and it is only when Mutsunokami's teary face enters his line of vision that he notices why. His blade is shattered to pieces in Mutsunokami's large hands, he barely manages to brush his fingers over them before his vision blacks out.

There is a new voice murmuring in his ear, and Yagen startles, opening his eyes once more to find his vision swallowed by sky blue locks. Triumph rises in his chest and he laughs, lowly and carefully, thinking back on his prayer several weeks before, only to turn his head sideways and cough out blood onto the ground. He looks up and his siblings are clustered to his side, he finds himself reaching out to brush away Midare's tears and ruffle Ichigo's unnatural blue hair before looking at Mutsunokami hovering above him.

His first friend was crying, tears flowing down his face and into his sleeves, and Yagen gestures him weakly over so that he might run a gloved hand through his ebony hair. He laughs slightly in regret, and lets his eyes close and his hand rest heavily on Mutsunokami's head.

"Maybe I should have been a coward and run away just this once, huh, Yoshiyuki?"


End file.
